


Waiting for Redemption

by keirajo



Series: The Love of Romance [6]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Combat, Conflict, Friendship, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: After the Lost Light lands in the middle of a conflict and meet an enemy that will likely plague them as they explore the new universe they're in, Megatron and Rodimus start to take the next steps in their growing relationship.





	Waiting for Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> For those who've read my GalvaRod 'fic, you're aware of the "cyborg pests" that seem to exist only to piss Galvatron off. Well, they were created in that universe as "off-screen enemies", since Starscream is the main enemy...........I decided to borrow them here as a "constant conflict" the Lost Light will encounter in this particular "new universe".
> 
> So, the Trylians are a species that are like a cross between giant Greek Cyclopes and the Borg (from ST:TNG). Very war-like, but also very technologically advanced. Some of the stuff they mention are things............that are going to come up a little further down the road in my GalvaRod universe, but nothing spoiler-ish. :)

**_ Waiting for Redemption _ **

 

 

            Never before had Rodimus counted the minutes while he was off-duty.   If he thought staring at the chronometer was bad enough, he was also checking his internal chronometer the whole time, too.   He and Megatron were going to snuggle in and watch a movie together—not that it was different than any other night they spent together watching a movie and cuddling.   But Rodimus just always looked forward to it now, because Megatron had _finally_ given up his drab old hab suite and moved in with Rodimus.  It was now **_their_** hab suite.

            The crew had been gossiping about it long enough, they may as well know now for an undeniable fact that their two captains were “ _a thing_ ”.

            Most people on the ship had been decent about it.   The few that still grumbled over Megatron’s presence made little further grumbles about Megatron corrupting yet another pure and decent Autobot.   Which was really rather amusing, since all the gossip before that had been about how Rodimus was a slut and went to berth with practically anyone who asked him—so, the flame-colored mech merely shook his head at how quickly he went from “ _slut_ ” to “ _pure and decent_ ”.   Realistically that should be the reverse—you don’t magically become “ _innocent_ ” again after giving up your innocence (or having it taken from you)!

            It _wasn’t_ their business anyways.   It was between Rodimus and Megatron………and the both of them were incredibly happy with their relationship.   Now if they could only bridge the other small gaps between them.   The things that sometimes it would hurt them both to bring up and talk about.   _Those_ were the things they needed to talk about, eventually.

            Suddenly, his comm-link chirped.

            **[Rodimus, sorry.   I will probably be very late tonight,]** Megatron’s familiar voice said.

            **[You need me on the bridge?]**   Rodimus asked, standing up as he responded.

            **[If you’d like to come up—we’re in the ready room,]** his lover answered, softly.

            Rodimus quickly went to the bridge and seated himself next to Ultra Magnus in the ready room when he came in.   Several command staff were in the room already—Megatron and Magnus, of course, Thunderclash and Roller, as well as Perceptor.

            “I can honestly report that I’ve _never_ seen a solar storm of this magnitude,” Perceptor sighed.   “I would be willing to venture a guess that perhaps the natives or someone had been _artificially experimenting_ with the sun in this system.”

            Thunderclash tapped the screen on the table in front of him.   “I concur.  In all the travels I’ve had in my many centuries, _I’ve_ never seen a solar storm like this.   It’s like Perceptor said, it’s like someone aggravated their sun—it’s not in a burnout or a nova or even collapsing stage, it’s like someone threw fuel on it and its flaring out of control,” the old Autobot hero added, sighing deeply.

            “ _Very well_.   Now the question is, can we do anything to tamp down the flares or should we find a way to assist the natives of the colonized worlds in the system evacuate somewhere?”  Megatron said, firmly.

            “We certainly don’t have enough room on the _Lost Light_ , even though they are small fleshling types—not for all of them.   And they don’t seem to have the technological capabilities for any kind of distance space travel,” Ultra Magnus responded.   “So, if their sun _was_ experimented with—then it was likely not by them,” he added, shaking his head as he viewed information on his datapad.

            “How close can we get to their sun—to see how the flares may have been started?”  Rodimus asked, holding up a servo to interject himself into the conversation.   “If we can evaluate the type of star their sun is, maybe we can see what caused it and find a solution to fix it?   Is there any kind of galactic trade center we can call to see if they have ships to spare, in case we need to evacuate instead?”   The flame-colored mech inquired, looking directly at Ultra Magnus.

            “I’ve been in talks with a nearby local travel service to see if we can commandeer some of their employees and vessels for such an evacuation—they’re in favor of giving us a discount, but they _won’t_ do it out of the goodness of their hearts,” Magnus sighed.

            “Nautica is supposed to be sending statistics of the hull integrity and the degrees with which we can endure the solar storm,” Megatron responded, looking over at his younger lover.

            “So it comes down to whether we can fix their sun or whether we have the money to pay this travel agency to borrow staff and equipment for evacuation,” Rodimus sighed.

            “If I can pull Brainstorm from his latest time-waster project, I intend to gather as good a team of our science staff that I can muster to work on the situation, once we have the data,” Perceptor added with a wry little smile.

            “Can we harvest any of that energy from the solar storm, for shoring up our Energon supplies?”  Megatron inquired, looking over at the Autobot scientist.

            “I think we can manage to harvest some of it with our solar batteries, but I feel it might be too much to harvest a lot,” Perceptor responded, nodding at the former Decepticon Leader.

            “We may as well get what we can, if this is a mess we’re going to try and fix,” Rodimus laughed.   “What time does the mission start?”   He asked, curiously.

            “In an hour,” Ultra Magnus responded, smiling wryly over at the younger mech.

            “Enough time for a tiny nap,” the flame-colored mech chuckled.   “ _Come on, you!   Tiny nap awaits!_ ”   Rodimus giggled, grabbing Megatron’s arm.

            The older mech **_was_** going to try and protest, but he honestly couldn’t think of anything he had to do to prepare for the situation to make an excuse for.   So, he went back to their hab suite with Rodimus and they laid down, cuddling together, and took a brief recharge for the next hour.   Megatron drifted towards full recharge a couple of times, but wasn’t actually tired enough for it, so he was mostly awake, listening to the soft hum of Rodimus’ systems in recharge.

            “There is so much I want to tell you, still.   I wonder if we’ll be given the time for that?”  Megatron whispered in the near-silence of the room.   “And there’s so much I wish I can have from you—not just your frame in the throes of passion,” he murmured, rubbing his chin on the top of Rodimus’ helm.   “I wonder if we’ll be given the time for that, too?   Our separate lives and our separate pains, I hope they do not keep us separated forever.   And though it pains me to look back upon the moment when I killed you, it is an event I cannot change.   And as I was back then, I would’ve likely done far worse things to you, given the time and the opportunity.”

            Even though Rodimus was fully in recharge and couldn’t hear him—it felt important for Megatron to keep whispering his pain and his desires to the mech he wished to make his own.

            “Some will not allow the death of Megatron, the tyrant,” the former Decepticon Leader whispered, very quietly, placing a light kiss on top of his younger lover’s helm.   “And if we wish to continue on together, I am afraid you may have to shoulder that part of me, as well.   But please, Rodimus………please let me help you shoulder your pain as well—Nyon and those you’ve lost.”

            After speaking those words to assuage his own Spark, he nestled gently against the flame-colored mech and savored the remaining amount of time before their “ _tiny nap_ ” was over and they had to get up and head for the bridge to work again.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            What nobody expected was _an attack_.

            Just as soon as the _Lost Light_ got closer enough to the sun to start examining it for damage and to evaluate what they could do to fix it—they were attacked by a massive warship.   They’d _never_ seen the likes of it before—in their own universe, or so far in this one.

            “Makes me glad we outfitted this with some weapons to go along with our shields,” Rodimus chuckled, grabbing on to the back of the captain’s chair as the ship rocked violently.   “But I think we now know someone was messing with this system’s sun.”

            “ _Definitely_ ,” Megatron responded, keeping all focus on the tactical displays on the extending workboard before him.   “Now the question is……… _why_?”   He murmured.

            “I think I’ve got the answer to that,” Perceptor called from the science station.   “There’s some kind of shielded satellite out there—the warship is clearly protecting it.   They’re doing this to harvest energy in vast amounts.”

            “ _So._    We have a warship.   We have a satellite harvesting energy.   Now, _where_ did these aliens come from and how many other planetary systems have they done this to?”  Rodimus muttered, folding his arms across his chest angrily.   “This _can’t_ possibly be their first hit like this………….”

            “I think Rodimus is right,” Thunderclash said, his deep voice very serious.   He was standing near the back of the room, holding onto the railing that edged the walkway down into the main part of the bridge area.   “They _know_ what they’re doing, which means they’ve done this before.”

            “Then that means we attack, right?”  Krok said, looking up from a tactical display he was going over at one of the side of the room’s stations.   “Because, _honestly_ , it would probably be more of a pain to oversee hauling the natives of the habited planets away……..rather than confronting these guys directly.”

            “That may be so, but we may be at a disadvantage tactically,” Ultra Magnus responded, shaking his head as he looked over at the Decepticon.   “We’ve outfitted the _Lost Light_ with weaponry gleaned from the Functionists, which Megatron and his crew brought to us………….however, we are still _not_ a warship.   We need to parley with them and see if we can evaluate their actual threat level.”

            “I’ll go—I’m good at talking with people,” Rodimus said, volunteering right away.   And, maybe, depending on this species, he could get a good feel of their emotional status with his medical dermal sensor net.   “I’d like you to come, Magnus…………because you’ve been on the diplomacy track before, too.    And………..”

            “I _haven’t_ given permission for this,” Megatron grunted.

            “Hey you, still _‘co-captains’_ here, you know!”  Rodimus said with an epic pouting tone in his voice, but he smiled and leaned over to give Megatron’s helm a gentle kiss atop it.   “Thunderclash, you’ve also encountered a lot of species in your travels—I want you along, too.”

            “Rodimus, I have a very bad feeling about this.   Are you certain you want to go?”  Megatron asked, swiveling the captain’s chair around to look at the flame-colored mech with worry in his old red optics.

            “Yeah.   I’ll be good.   Despite everything, I _did_ used to be a Wrecker you know,” he responded, grinning fondly at his older lover.   “Small teams to do the job often work better than all the guns in the world.”

            “All right, but have a care…………..and for Primus’ sake, _don’t take the Rod Pod_ ,” Megatron groaned softly.

            “Okay, _spoilsport_ ,” Rodimus laughed.  “C’mon you two, let’s go!”

            The three of them took a small speeder craft, because that would likely be able to outrun any firepower, so long as a good pilot was at the helm.   Ultra Magnus used a signal beacon in the colors of truce and parley, as well as sent a message of the same via several styles of communication that he knew of back from their universe.   The warship backed down from its aggressive stance to welcome the boarding party and Thunderclash landed the speeder in the hangar that they were directed to use.

            When the three mechs exited their craft and approached the aliens, they saw that they resembled humanoids only in flesh colors and basic muscle structure, but they were _giants_ —at least as big as Rodimus, so close to the size of a normal Cybertronian.   They also had one single eye and all of them had cybernetic mesh and net all over their bodies—as a result, they wore very little clothing and clearly looked to not care whether their more private of their body parts were on display or not.   In fact, several of them decorated their body parts quite………….gaudily.   There were males and females of the group and they all had long hair that reached to their waist—some pulled back into a tail, some braided and many just simply loose.

            They looked barbaric, but Rodimus had learned you couldn’t trust the way a species looked—especially if there was a primitive-looking species using the technology that this warship and its energy harvester had!

            “ _Ugh, **Cybertronians**_.   Didn’t think they existed in this universe, Captain,” one of the males muttered in a guttural form of the universal standard language spoken in this universe.

            “They _don’t_.   Clearly these came from another universe,” the one addressed as “ _captain_ ” responded.  

            Rodimus and Ultra Magnus both noted that this leader had several gold bands on his right upper arm—something none of the others of this crew had.   Therefore it must have been the special denotations for his rank.   The three mechs also noted that this species was familiar with theirs and mentioned “ _other universes_ ”—that made all of them very wary indeed.

            “We’ve come in the name of the planets from this system—what you’re doing to their sun is affecting their worlds,” Ultra Magnus began and was suddenly cut off by the “ _captain_ ” waving a hand dismissively.

            “Don’t care,” he responded instantly, his voice had a tone both droll and bored.   “But **_you_** —are you _Hot Rod_?”  He snapped, glaring hatefully at Rodimus.

            “Uh, **_no_** —thank you very much!!!   I’m _Rodimus_!”   The flame-colored mech snapped back, indignantly.

            “Same fire,” a female on the other side of the one addressed as the “ _captain_ ” chuckled softly.   “Do you suppose if we killed him it would affect the _other universe’s_ version?   I mean, if we could hurt Hot Rod………..Galvatron would lose it and the Emperor could finally take Chaar’s system…………”

            “Alternative universes don’t work that way and you know it,” the gruff male, who had the distasteful tone talking about Cybertronians, grunted.

            “It wouldn’t matter.   We can’t get back there and we can’t affect it—we will continue to forge our new empire here in this universe,” the “ _captain_ ” responded, calmly.   “And when the time is right, we’ll have combat to choose our new Emperor.”

            Ultra Magnus began slowly creeping his way in front of Rodimus and it looked like Thunderclash had the same thought, because there was no way they’d be able to bargain with these aliens and they were just moments from making the decision to kill the three of them.   Rodimus was starting to get annoyed, but it was mostly because he could feel the pure hatred for Cybertronians in all of these aliens and it was overwhelming him—he wasn’t really noticing Thunderclash and Ultra Magnus’ subtle moves of positioning.

            “Who _are_ you guys?   Because honestly we came here to talk nicely to you and you’re being totally rude to us!”   Rodimus snapped, glaring at the “captain”.

            “ _Just_ like the flame-colored one back in our original universe,” the “ _captain_ ” chuckled deviously.   “We really don’t take individual names for ourselves, but our species is called _Trylian_.   We come from a planetary system called _Nerha_ , which is adjacent to the system containing the planet _Chaar_ —in that universe, that particular planet has been taken over by the Decepticons.   And part of that is your other self’s fault, along with Galvatron.   Those idiots don’t even know what Chaar and its planets contain!”

            “ _Nice to know_.   But you can’t really blame me for what a _different me_ did, you know?   That’s _really rude_!”  Rodimus snapped, angrily.   By this time, Ultra Magnus and Thunderclash were completely in front of him.    His dermal sensor net was starting to get overloaded by their hatred and he felt like he was either going to start crying or lashing out in a very short time soon.

            Just then, Thunderclash rounded on Rodimus, scooped him up and began sprinting back to the ship.   Ultra Magnus went into full-on battle mode, guns and rocket launchers exposed everywhere from his frame.

            “Put me down, _I can fight_!”   Rodimus cried, struggling against Thunderclash.

            “Not now, this _isn’t_ a game Rodimus—these guys are very serious,” the old Autobot hero snapped back.   “They are at war with Cybertronians where they came from and there’s no negotiating with them.”

            “I _know_ that, but I can fight!   _I used to be a **Wrecker** , come on!!!_”  Rodimus pouted, pounding lightly on Thunderclash’s shoulder with a servo.   He looked back to see Ultra Magnus giving it his all—it had been some time since he’d last seen his old friend in all-out battle mode like this.   Against the DJD, back on the Necrobot’s world………….any fights since had been tough, but not requiring Magnus to go all-out like **_this_**.

            “They’ve marked you as a target, because of your other self in the universe they’ve come from,” Thunderclash said, sharply.   “ _Nnngh, dammit!_ ”   He grumbled, skidding to a halt a few meters from their speeder, as they were blocked by two fighters—a male and a female.

            “Did one of you glyph Megatron?   He _needs_ to know………..” the flame-colored mech said, worriedly.

            “Magnus did, right before we moved in front of you.   I’m very surprised they didn’t realize the two of us were formulating a plan—perhaps they can’t tell when we’re glyph-messaging?”   Thunderclash said, softly, setting Rodimus down and got ready to fight.   “Get to the ship—we’re going to push through them,” he added, quietly, looking down at the flame-colored mech beside him.

            “But what about Magnus…….?”  Rodimus whispered, raising his arms to aim his piping lasers at the enemy.

            “Don’t worry, I told you _we have a plan_ , but we need to get to the ship for it to work,” the old Autobot hero responded, pulling out a massive rifle from a subspace pocket.

            “Okay, follow _my_ lead, then!”  Rodimus snapped, charging recklessly forwards as he fired his lasers at the Trylians’ legs.

            But as Thunderclash watched—it only _looked_ reckless.  Rodimus was moving with purpose, his laser blasts were meant to tamper with their balance and to make them scatter to clear the way those last few meters to the ship.   The old Autobot hero gave a grin and followed the younger mech’s lead in the charge, as they barreled past the two Trylians and got onto their ship.

            A couple moments later, Ultra Magnus came barreling through in his vehicle mode—crashing through all in his path and transformed at the last second to slide into the ship and sealed it fast.   But not before he sent all of his missiles into the hangar door to blast it open.

            It was a fast and efficient retreat that could only have been pulled off by two very skilled individuals, such as Ultra Magnus and Thunderclash.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            The journey back to the ship was uneventful—the Trylian warship didn’t even bother pursuing them and went back to their energy harvesting, causing massive solar flaring and storms that were already beginning to char the first planet of the system ( _thankfully uninhabited!_ ).   Megatron had already summoned the travel agencies they’d contacted and had begun emergency evacuation procedures for the third and fourth planets, which had life on them. 

            The third planet was more primitive and it was difficult to explain that they could all die if they didn’t evacuate.   The fourth planet was far more advanced and had already begun classifying and cataloguing the DNA of all their animals, knowing they couldn’t hope to evacuate every living thing on their world.   They had some ships, but not they were not fully space-travelling worthy—however, they could be towed, which saved some space on the ships purchased.   Contacting a galactic agency, they were able to drop the inhabitants off in the next system for relocation—and that was when a galactic senate representative contacted them to get their input on these invaders.

            Rodimus locked himself in the training room and refused to speak to anyone for a whole three days since they’d begun doing the evacuation—he wouldn’t even speak to Megatron, who had become incredibly worried about him isolating himself like this.   And he was not even accepting _any fueling_.   But at some point the time-coded lock on the training room had finally unlocked and both Ultra Magnus and Megatron had gone in carefully to find the room trashed, as Rodimus had done in the past to his own hab suite, and the flame-colored mech lying in the center of the room, _unconscious_.   They rushed him to the medi-bay where Ratchet cursed under his breath and First Aid silently began hooking Rodimus up to a variation of machines.

            “Look…….. _you’re worried_ , Megatron, but hovering does no one any good— _just go_ , we’ll contact you when he regains consciousness,” Ratchet sighed, pushing on Megatron’s chest to emphasize that he wanted the older mech to leave the medi-bay right now.

            “Isn’t there _anything_ I can do for him?”  Megatron asked, unmoving and staring at the medical berth his younger lover was laying in.

            “Not at this moment,” First Aid responded, gazing up at the former Decepticon Leader.  “Let the machines get some fuel into his system and some charge back into his circuits—then he should be able to wake up normally.   We’ll _call you_ when he’s awake.”

            “Very well, let me know as soon as he’s awake—whether I’m in recharge or on the bridge,” Megatron said, finally relenting and turning away to leave.   He passed Drift on the way out of the medi-bay and only nodded politely at the shorter swordsmech.

            Ratchet immediately told Drift to leave or to go wait in his office—the situation was too delicate for him to be here right now.

            “If we didn’t have other injured from the fight, I would have had him in an isolated room by now, but there are no single-person rooms at this moment,” First Aid said with a deeply exvented sigh.

            The medical staff had to haul in cots and put 3-4 people each in the couple of isolated rooms that were there.   So Rodimus was merely curtained off in the surgical area of the medi-bay.

            “ _That’s_ going to upset him when he wakes up, too—that there are injured crew from the initial strike of the warship,” Ratchet muttered, darkly.    “He was emotionally overwhelmed by these cyborgs.   Now, was it because they had machinery in their bodies and therefore emitted something stronger towards the similarity our own EM fields—or did they merely have the standard fleshling fields and the mass of their dark emotions were too much for him?”

            “Ratchet—I _know_ you’re going to balk at this suggestion, but……………I think we should give him a field inhibitor,” First Aid murmured, reaching down and lightly brushing the side of Rodimus’ faceplate.

            “ _Absolutely not!_   That’s **_not_** right the solution for his situation!”   Ratchet snapped.   “If you take away his field, he’s going to feel even more isolated—those things are an all-or-nothing solution!”

            “And at this point, he’s either going to finally go crazy or hurt himself beyond repair,” First Aid sighed.   “What do **_you_** want to do?   He _can’t_ keep going with this situation—not unless he and Megatron really do take that plunge to Spark-bond.   But even _that’s_ not a real solution—it’s not going to completely stop him from feeling everyone else intensely around him!”   The smaller and younger medic snapped back.   “I want to at least _ask him_ and explain what a field inhibitor would do, all right?   I **_am_** the Chief Medical Officer, aren’t I?   And Rodimus deserves _that much effort_ towards a solution.”

            “ _Yeah_.   I understand, but I’d really prefer looking for other ways.   There’s so much that will be taken from him with a field inhibitor—and even if you uninstall it later, it leaves permanent and lasting effects on the system,” Ratchet mumbled, wanting to argue more, but he honestly had handed First Aid the reins—so the younger medic _outranked him_.

            “What’s wrong with his field?”   Drift snapped, standing not far away and glaring at the two medics.

            “I told you to go wait in my office,” the older medic snapped back, glaring at his lover with annoyance.

            “I _was_ , but I heard you two arguing and thought you might need to be separated,” the swordsmech complained, folding his arms across his chest.

            “It’s **_not_** your business, Drift,” the younger CMO said, sternly, glaring at the former Decepticon warrior.

            “Even though _he_ may not think so, I’d like to believe he’s still my friend—what’s wrong with Rodimus’ field?”   Drift asked again, staring both of the medics down.

            Ratchet grumbled and mumbled in a low voice as he stomped over, grabbed his younger lover’s arm and then dragged him back to push him in a chair at the side of Rodimus’ medical berth, making certain to pull the curtain around the area again.   “You must not _ever_ tell anyone—it is none of their business—but Rodimus _should’ve_ been a medic.   He has the dermal sensor net that all properly-birthed medics have, but because he was never trained as a medic, it’s wild and untamed.   And it hurts him like hell to feel everyone around him, their emotions blaring out into their fields all the time,” the old medic growled, softly.

            “He’s………… ** _oh_**.   _That’s_ why you………… _oh Primus_ ,” Drift murmured, staring up at his lover in shock.  He placed a servo to his mouth as the implications of Ratchet’s explanation sunk in quickly.   “And I really messed up, didn’t I?”  He murmured, staring down at his pedes anxiously.

            “ _Yes_ , yes you did.   You were kind to him— _you flirted with him_ —he believed there could have been something between the two of you, because _you let your field say so_ to him,” Ratchet snapped, softly.   “And then, recently, you’re all wildly flaring how in love you are!  This is _exactly_ why our kind should not just let their fields ripple out willy-nilly, because then you start using your field to lie to others on how you’re truly feeling…………and that’s _not_ what our EM fields are for, _dammit_.   Rodimus believes you _lied to him_ — ** _you used your field to lie to him_** —for all this time, and it scares him, because he loved you and trusted you.”

            “On this, I agree with Ratchet,” First Aid responded, folding his arms over his chest and gazing at Drift.   “Our fields were meant to be a _sense of presence_ , **_not_** an emotional beacon to others at all times.   Those that understand, they hold theirs tighter—as Megatron does, as Ultra Magnus does.   Even Thunderclash knows how to hold his field tightly.”

            “ _Yeah_.   I see that now.   I get why you’ve been admonishing me over this,” the swordsmech responded, looking up at Ratchet with an apologetic gaze.   “I’ll really do my best to be more careful with my field now.   Thanks for telling me—I get that Rodimus probably doesn’t want people to know, because then they’ll treat him like a glass statue and all he wants is to be a normal guy.    I know _that much_ about him.”

            “ _Good_.  Now remember—even if you start controlling your field, don’t just jump in at him.   You need to wait until he comes to you, all right?”  Ratchet responded, finally smiling.

            “ _Got it_.   But I still don’t know about him and Megatron—it _doesn’t_ sit right with me,” Drift murmured, pouting.

            “ ** _Not_** your choice, Drift,” First Aid admonished.

            “Yeah, I know,” he sighed.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Rodimus woke up about 30 hours later, fully refueled and recharged.   He sat up in the medical berth and reached over to pull the curtains aside a few inches to see where he was at in the medi-bay.   Ah, he was in the surgical area and not a room.   He wondered _why_ …………?

            Velocity looked over and saw him peeking out and she waved at him, smiling warmly.   Rodimus waved back and then shut the curtain.   A few moments later, First Aid came in.

            “Hey there,” the small medic chuckled warmly.   “Got it all out?”

            “Yeah,” Rodimus mumbled.   “Those guys were _so full of hate_.   Where are we now?”

            “We’re still assisting with transport, we’re going to be at this for another week,” First Aid answered.   “Before I call Megatron—as he insisted he be called the moment you woke up—I want to talk to you about something.”

            “Okay,” the flame-colored mech murmured, looking up at the small medic.

            “If _all else fails_ in helping to try and tame your dermal sensor net at least a little bit, there’s a last-ditch solution.   It’s not dangerous, per se, and _can_ be reversed—but it cannot be reversed without a permanent loss,” First Aid began, folding his arms across his chest and gazing seriously down into Rodimus’ optics.   “Ratchet would prefer you didn’t and I’m not saying I support it, either…………..but we can install a _‘field suppressor’_ into your systems.   It would prevent you from using your EM field in a receptive or projective manner.”   First Aid paused and held up a hand to prevent Rodimus from speaking yet.   “I’m _very concerned_ at how you treat yourself when you’re emotionally overwhelmed and that is the only reason I am even offering this solution.   If you eventually went with this solution and then decided to reverse it later on, it would leave _‘scars’_ in your field and you may not be able to feel or project appropriately or accurately anymore,” he continued, finishing and deciding to let Rodimus speak now.

            “Okay.   I’ll remember that,” Rodimus said, seriously, nodding.   “I don’t mean to do what I do………I just can’t………figure out what to do to help myself through it.”

            “ _I_ _know_.   And Ratchet’s right—whoever admitted you into the Academy did you a severe disservice by pretending your dermal sensor net didn’t exist,” First Aid said, sharply.   “I don’t care if it was the war and they preferred more soldiers—it aggravates me that our kind must stoop to such a level as to force people into a particular situation which may not be what’s best for them.   Talk this over with Megatron, too—as long as you two have a relationship, you should listen to what he has to say on things like the field suppressor as well.”

            “ _Yeah_.   Can I see Megatron now?   I think…………..I think I really **_do_** want to see him,” the flame-colored mech responded, sensing a great and deep longing inside of him.   He could really use a hug and he knew Megatron would be happy to cuddle with him a little bit for a while.

            “I’ll call up to the bridge for him,” First Aid said with a warm chuckle, grinning beneath his medical facial shield.

            It didn’t take long for Megatron to get there and Rodimus wondered if the older mech had actually run part of the distance.   He pulled the curtain back long enough to enter the enclosed area and then let it fall behind him, a smile on his faceplate as he approached his younger lover’s berthside.

            “I’m so glad you’re awake now, I was _very worried_ ,” Megatron said, softly, reaching down and sliding a large hand on the side of Rodimus’ faceplate.    He felt warmer inside when Rodimus rubbed his cheek against his palm happily.   “You should’ve _talked to me_.   We could’ve worked through it together and you wouldn’t have hurt yourself.”

            “ _I know_.   In my Spark, I know all that, but I’ve always had to deal with this on my own so I fell back upon that,” Rodimus sighed, he opened his arms to signal how much he really wanted a hug right now.   Megatron leaned down and hugged him gently, then sat down in the chair next to the medical berth.   “I’m sorry I made you worry.  _Um_ , so………..I know Magnus and Thunderclash were there and told you about these Trylian guys.   They’re from another universe, one where Cybertronians exist, but not the one we came from……….they talked about a planet called Chaar.   The thing is………….their hatred runs deep for Cybertronians and it sounds like more towards one in particular— _Galvatron_.   Now, I know we had a Galvatron in our universe, too………..but the Galvatron he talked about sounded different and had an attachment of some sort to a Hot Rod with my coloring and stuff.”

            “Well, why not, right?   It would not be the first time a tyrant fell in love with a flame-colored mech, mmm?”  Megatron chuckled.

            Rodimus laughed warmly, he’d **_never_** even made that connection when the Trylians had said it.   “Damn, I _really_ do like you, Megs!”  The flame-colored mech chuckled, reaching over for his lover’s servo, just to hold onto it.

            “Will I ever graduate from that silly nickname?”  The former Decepticon Leader inquired, giving the younger mech a big grin.

            “ _Nope_.   You’re stuck with it.  It’s _my pet name_ for you,” Rodimus teased.   “Hey, so also—First Aid told me there’s a last ditch effort for my field problem…………… _a field inhibitor_.   What do you think of that?”   He asked, shifting his body so he could lie down and gaze at the tall and bulkier mech.

            “ _Mmm_.   I know it would probably help a lot, but can you go without your field forever?”  Megatron asked, reaching over with his free hand and patted Rodimus’ helm fondly.

            “I—I wouldn’t want to, but………..when I feel overwhelmed I can’t say that I wouldn’t beg for it to be installed at that time,” the younger flame-colored mech murmured softly.

            The two of them talked softly about the idea of the field inhibitor for a little while and then Megatron checked his internal chronometer.   He stood up and said he had to get back to the bridge to relieve Ultra Magnus, because he promised not to be gone too long.   They’d have to talk about it more later.   In the meantime, Megatron suggested that Rodimus get some more rest and recharge and if he could get back to their hab suite—then they could sleep together for the rest of Megatron’s off-shift.

            Rodimus _really_ wanted to do something like that.

            _And there was a part of him that was suddenly aching for **more** , too…………_

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            After learning of the injured crew, Rodimus lingered in the medi-bay longer than he intended to—going around and asking if everyone was okay and if there was anything he could do for them.   Or, at least, for the ones in the medi-bay that he _knew_ he wouldn’t be a bother to.   There were a couple of people he knew wouldn’t want to talk to him, even if they were dying or in the Afterspark……..so he avoided them.   But the others he visited actually were touched by his concern for their welfare, so he spent time chatting and being friendly with them.   After all, they were all in this universe together now and there may not be any of their kind in it—so, the crew all just had each other from their own race.

            When he finally made his way to his and Megatron’s hab suite, he was surprised to find it within low lighting that had a soft blue overtone to it.   There was a small table over by the couch with some glasses and a bottle of premium-quality Engex, plus some energel snacks—it was akin to the Earth humans’ candlelight meals for bonded couples, as Rodimus could recall.    His Spark spun faster and his circuits heated at the pure romance of it all.   The flame-colored mech walked over to the couch and sat down, hoping that wherever Megatron had gone, he’d be back soon enough to share this evening he’d _clearly_ prepared ahead of time.

            In a few moments, the tall grey-colored mech walked in to the main room from the washrack and smiled at Rodimus as he came over and sat down next to his younger lover.   Rodimus noted he smelled freshly cleaned and scrubbed……..so he quickly got up and apologized and went to the washrack for a quick clean-up himself.   Megatron chuckled, even though he knew Rodimus would’ve been thoroughly scrubbed down in the medi-bay while being treated, it was cute that Rodimus felt he needed to take a shower too.

            “Better now?”  Megatron asked, smiling warmly at Rodimus as he came back in, scrubbing a towel about his neck.

            “Yeah, sorry.   I was talking to people in the medi-bay……..I didn’t mean to be running late,” the flame-colored mech apologized softly, settling down beside his older lover.

            “I’m glad that you’re feeling better enough to do that, Rodimus,” the former Decepticon answered, wrapping one arm around his lover’s waist and pulled him close as they settled back into the couch.   With his free hand he poured the Engex into the glasses and handed one to Rodimus before taking the other.   “It’s light Engex, low fuel-intake, mostly tasteful additives.”

            “Ah, thanks…………I’m really trying harder not to drink much, you know?”   He said.  “All it was………it was just for numbing the pain, because I didn’t know what else to do.   _All my bad habits_ were because I didn’t know what to do about the overwhelming emotions around me and inside of me,” Rodimus murmured, sipping at the light pink Engex concoction in the glass.

            “We’ll work on that.   And _you_ can help me lighten up, right?”   Megatron chuckled, planting a light kiss on the top of his younger lover’s helm.

            “I’ll do my best,” the flame-colored mech responded with a grin.   He set his glass down on the table and then pulled an energel snack off the tray.   He reached up and held it to Megatron’s lips.   “ _Say ahhhhhh_ ……..” the younger mech teased softly.

            “Silly brat,” the older grey-colored mech laughed, but he bit into the snack as it was presented to him.    Then he took a sip from his glass to wash down the sweetness of the snack and set the glass on the table to pick up a snack to present to his young lover.  

            Rodimus bit into it greedily, grinning at Megatron.    Then he stretched up and pressed his energel-moistened lips against the bulkier mech’s.   The former Decepticon Leader _wasn’t_ going to complain about an overly-sweetened kiss.   Rodimus pulled his frame up, cupping the sides of his older lover’s faceplate, pressing himself so his chest was against Megatron’s and he deepened the kiss even more.

            _It just felt right. **It all felt so very right.**_

            _This_ was something Megatron wasn’t going to complain about either.   He let his servos slide along the slender sides of Rodimus’ frame and gently placed them over his aft, pulling the smaller mech against him and squeezing the metal plating gently.   Rodimus’ body rocked against him, feeling even hotter than normal.   Megatron wondered if Rodimus was willing and waiting for them to finally go all the way tonight.   It was the same eagerness the younger mech had when they’d first rushed back to the ship to frag, that day at the space mall.

            “Rodimus,” Megatron began, gazing into the luminescent blue glass-covered optics.   “What do you want tonight?   Be honest with me…………” he trailed off, softly.

            “You know………….. _I think_ I want to use the berth for more than sleeping tonight,” Rodimus answered, his voice lower and a little shyer.   “Can you……………can you just take your time and………….and be patient with me?   _Because I **want** it!_   I just don’t know how fast my body will get revved up and ready for it………….” he whispered, softly, kissing the top of Megatron’s helm as the older mech brushed lips over his neck cabling and collar fairing.   “And don’t forget your field, okay?   I want _that_ , too.  I want your _full honesty_ when we interface,” he added, his body feeling taut and burning.

            “Of course, _everything you desire_ shall be yours,” Megatron murmured, holding Rodimus to him as he got up, the flame-colored mech obediently wrapped his legs around the grey-colored mech’s waist.  

            They went to the berth together, to enter the next stage of their relationship, _finally_.

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to be a two-story arc, so, yes............I did plan to end it where I did. So a beautiful moment can be savored at the start of the next story. :)


End file.
